


Give You the Night

by JustJasper



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bottom!Bull, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Game, Pre-Trespasser, Tent Sex, top!dorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first kisses are gentle, their mouths closed; a series of delicate things, as they communicate only in pleased little murmurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give You the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Koutou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koutou/gifts).



> Inspired by some NSFW [fantastic fanart](https://twitter.com/uotuok/status/647545557267939328) by Koutou.
> 
> Thank you to [paperuni](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paperiuni/profile) for betaing!

**“I can't give you the sunset, but I can give you the night.” - Erin McCarthy**

The days on the road can turn into long ones easily, and with a contract to clear out dangerous wildlife and bandits plaguing a rich man's farm holdings, it's dark before they get to eat and retire to their tents.

Dorian is half undressed and halfway through a mug of wine when the Bull has finished briefing his main guys. His hair is fluffy after he's heated it dry, and he's in remarkably good spirits considering they all spent a good part of the day covered in animal viscera. He holds up a second mug of wine to the Bull as he eases himself down onto the furs lining the floor of the tent.

The tent's warmth smothers the lingering chill from the cold river water, enveloping him in soft heat as he closes the flap. A lantern burns near the entrance, and the Bull wouldn't be surprised if there's lingering heat from glyphs. But if a warm tent means Dorian is in good spirits, he's not going to complain about a little casual magic.

He takes a drink after he's taken off his boots and harness, and watches Dorian shimmy out of his trousers. Naked amongst the furs, all he needs is a bit of gypsum on his chest to look like the perfect Avvar fantasy.

He tucks the thought away, something fun for another time. Instead he shucks his own trousers, and scoots in close enough for Dorian to climb into his lap and kiss him. The first kisses are gentle, their mouths closed; a series of delicate things, as they communicate only in pleased little murmurs.

They have to take their time alone where they can on the road, no permanent room to retreat to with Skyhold a few months behind them, but they're together every day: walking and fighting, eating and training, and on one memorable occasion, swimming across a lake.

The kisses become heated, and their wine gets forgotten as hands roam and tongues meet. Dorian unwinds his eyepatch and tosses it towards their packs, then smooths his thumb where the cord has sat against his skin. The Bull grins, and lets his hand dip along Dorian's thigh, across his backside, around to press his own thumb into a sensitive jut of hipbone. It's lazy, and easy, and feels deserved after such a long day.

“You were glorious today,” Dorian murmurs against his mouth, between kisses. “I want to fuck you.”

The Bull's chest rumbles with a laugh. “Yeah?”

“I've wanted to fuck you all day.”

“Have you?” The Bull's cock stirs with interest at that.

“Yes.”

The Bull leans back and grins at him. Dorian looks hungry, and damn if that isn't the hottest thing.

“Yeah, big guy. Fuck me.”

Dorian captures his mouth for another kiss, all plush lips and a hum of desire. The Bull knows what it's like to be desired, that wasn't anything new before he went to bed with Dorian. But the ways in which Dorian wants him, as a lover and as a companion, no longer confined to urgency, are new, and precious.

“How do you want me?”

“Turn over,” Dorian says. “Over the bedroll.”

“You really have been thinking about it, huh?”

Dorian just smirks at him as they part, and he reaches for his pack to find the oil. The Bull pulls the rolled up bedding towards himself and arranges his body over it. It lets him lie low to the ground while still keeping his hips canted up, perfect for Dorian to be on his knees and mount him, to fuck him at whatever pace he wants.

Not so bad on his knee, either, but Dorian still runs his hand down his thigh towards it when he's got the oil.

“You comfortable, amatus?”

“All good,” he says as he turns his head back to look at him. “Fuck me.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

Then Dorian's hand is on one cheek of his ass, squeezing as a dry finger brushes across his hole. The Bull lets a groan rumble in his chest, and Dorian makes a pleased noise.

“It's been a while, hasn't it?” he says, an observation, as he traces his thumb around, presses against the Bull's entrance, then trails down in a firm path over his perineum. “I don't believe I’ve fucked you once since we've been on the road.”

“No rush. We've got time.”

Dorian hums again, but doesn't argue. The day that he'll have to go to Tevinter alone draws ever closer with each new job they take, heading in the vague direction of the Nevarra-Tevinter border. They're not ignoring it, just not focusing on it until it's happening.

Dorian presses an oiled finger against him, and the Bull settles his head on one arm, let his horn rest against the floor.

“You were a force of nature today. I swear you were showing off when you finished that wyvern.”

“You enjoyed the show,” the Bull says. “I know a good fight gets your blood pumping.”

“You broke its neck, Bull,” Dorian says, as he leans forward to kiss his back. “I don't usually find pleasure in the death of an animal, but this one did attack us first. And you just—”

He squeezes the Bull's ass with his other hand, obvious demonstrating the move the Bull had used earlier, when he'd grabbed the wyvern by the throat to stop it lunging at Dalish, twisted and broken its neck cleanly.

“Got you hot, did it?”

Dorian slips a second oiled finger beside his first, and scissors them inside him, stretching him out.

“Quite.”

The Bull wiggles his hips, and is happy when he hears Dorian groan. But he doesn't rush, continues to slide his fingers within him, stretching and fucking and then, finally curving them against his prostate.

“Shit, yeah,” the Bull groans. Dorian never neglects that, and will often slip a finger inside when he's sucking the Bull's cock, but it's been a while since they did it with the intent to go further.

“Three?”

“Yeah.”

Dorian pushes a third finger in, and the Bull probably doesn't need it; Dorian's generously proportioned for a human, but he's no qunari, and he can comfortably take him after only a little stretching, as long as he's liberal with the oil. But Dorian is gentle, and the Bull lets him work him open slowly, taking his time to twist and tease at the bundle of nerves inside him.

He lets himself enjoy the slide and the deliberate pressure, Dorian dipping his head to kiss his back and his ass as he fucks him on his fingers.

“Ready for me, amatus?”

“Give me your cock.”

Dorian replaces his fingers with his cock and pushes into the Bull, no preamble as his fingers dig into his hips. The stretch is amazing, and Dorian bears his hips forward in a smooth, slow slide, pushing relentlessly into his body.

“Yeah,” he groans, braces his arms to keep him in place as Dorian pushes forward. “Just like that, kadan. That how you've been imagining fucking me today?”

Dorian presses his hips against the Bull's backside, and he takes the opportunity to squeeze himself deliberately around Dorian's cock.

“Kaffas, yes. Wanted this, wanted you like this.”

Dorian drags his hips back, then presses forward again, the beginnings of a slow, steady pace, like he's savouring every inch of the Bull's body. Dorian feels hefty and solid at his back as well as inside him, his grip strong at his hips as he pulls the Bull back into his cock.

“Yeah,” the Bull grunts, lets his pleasure morph into breathy words in the absence of Dorian being able to see his face. “Fuck, yeah.”

Dorian does the same when their positions are reversed, constantly telling him it feels good. It's just a good call, when getting fucked from behind, but more than that, the Bull wants Dorian to know that he's making his body fucking _sing_.

When Dorian puts his weight on his arms and presses the Bull's hips down, giving him a better angle to thrust into him, the Bull reaches back and grabs blindly for Dorian. He finds his wrist and wraps his hand around it, squeezes.

“Harder, big guy.”

He obliges, thrusts harder into the Bull's body, panting with the effort. The Bull's cock is trapped against the rolled up bedroll, and each thrust presses him more firmly into it, a steady thrum of pleasure, but not enough, even when he tries to rut his hips against it.

The tent smells of sex and wine, and Dorian's making little breathy noises, holding back from full on groans. He's long been shameless of the Chargers knowing they're having sex, but the impromptu rounds of call and response the boys try to start when they're too loud either end in Dorian huffing or the Bull laughing.

“You feel so good, Bull, I'm—fuck!”

Dorian's pulls his cock out, and if his cut off moan is anything to go by, he's squeezing the base of it to keep himself from release.

“Turn over, love.”

With a grunt the Bull obliges as promptly as his knee will allow, and flops onto his back atop the furs strewn on the tent floor.

“That's it,” Dorian says as he lines up their cocks, and can only wrap around both of them if he uses both hands. His hair is askew and his skin shines with sweat from their exertion, and shit, it's good to be reminded what a sight that is.

“Fuck, just like that!”

“Are you there? Are you going to come with me, Bull?”

“Yeah,” he groans, because he's so close now, Dorian's hands stroking them, his slick cock pressed against the Bull's. “I'm gonna—fuck, Dorian!”

He shouts as he comes, paints his torso with his release and Dorian keeps stroking them both, comes with his own bitten-off shout a few strokes later, messy over his hands and the Bull's chest. He keeps stroking them as the Bull shudders, squeezing his grip and dragging deliberately over the sensitive head of the Bull's cock, where the last of his spend leaves the tip of his cock in pearly ropes.

“What a mess,” Dorian says as he unfurls his hands and holds them up for inspection, resting back on his knees.

The Bull looks at the strong, elegant shape of his knuckles as he lifts one hand to his mouth and licks at someone's release – it could be either of them, they've done such a good job – from his hand. It seems mostly for show, for the Bull, because then he leans forward, elbows at an odd angle to keep his messy hands out of the way, and kisses the Bull with the taste of them on his mouth.

“You're so hot,” the Bull murmurs, stealing another kiss before Dorian can right himself again.

“You too, _amatus_.”

They clean themselves up and roll out the bedroll they fucked over to settle in for the night. Dorian retrieves their forgotten mugs of wine and settles against the Bull, sighs when he leans down to kiss his forehead.

“You sick, Dorian?” the Bull asks, and Dorian tilts his head back to took at him.

“What?”

“You haven't even complained about the wine. It's cheap shit.”

“Cheap is better than nothing,” Dorian sniffs. “I can't believe you're not relishing my agreeable mood.”

“I'm not complaining, kadan,” he says. “Just checking in.”

“I'm fine, amatus,” he says, resting his cheek against the Bull's chest. “I'm happy to be here. With you.”

“Good,” the Bull says. “I'm happy you're here, too.”

The Bull presses his lips to Dorian's head again, and he smiles and sips his wine, leaning into the kiss.

**“With you, intimacy colours my voice. Even ‘hello’ sounds like ‘come here’.” - Warsan Shire**


End file.
